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Bikin' and Transformation in the 21st century
by Dale Brown, 2007

ARTICLE ORIGINALLY APPEARED AT TheBigFiveOh.com Blog @ Yahoo.Com, Wednesday January 31, 2007

The weather is so darn nice out here in northern Nevada, and is forecast to be so until the middle of next week at least, that I brought the Gold Wing up from the hangar in Minden to Tahoe so I can take off for Sacramento this weekend right from home.

One look at the Gold Wing above and you might conclude that I'm a complete and utter biker nerd. The Gold Wing is like a two-wheeled La-Z-Boy recliner. I have XM datalink weather displayed on a moving map, XM music piped into my helmet, GPS satellite navigation with turn-by-turn voice prompts. The Gold Wing is renowed for its ultra-smooth, ultra-quiet ride.

Not only that, but I have "training wheels"--hydraulically-actuated wheels made by the folks at www.safetyfeatures.com that fold up for cruising but extend for slow-speed driving. I've had 2+-hour trips on the bike where my feet have never touched the ground--the wheels are in charge of holding up the 900-pound bike for me. So I guess it's really a part-time 4-wheeled La-Z-Boy.

My account of last summer's trip to Sturgis, SD for the annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally can be found on www.AirBattleForce.com. The trip went great, as did subsequent rallies I've attended such as Virginia City, NV's "Street Vibrations." Riding the Gold Wing is a pleasurable, almost indulgent experience.

But one thing that will always stick with me is the sometimes angry and almost always incredulous reactions I've gotten from other riders when they see the "training wheels." Hard-core bikers are not just mean and derisive with me when they see the wheels--some are downright abusive and hostile, as if the presence of "training wheels" on a motorcycle makes me less of a man and more like a wussie, interloper, blasphemer, or "infidel."

The modified Gold Wing and the reactions of other bikers is a good metaphor for my view of the world of the military in which we are in right now. We still have the "graybeards," last generation's commanders, who see things as they were 20 or 30 years ago and want it to stay that way. Then we have the young guns, the kids who see the solution to threats against America in terms of applying technology and audacity in equal parts to get results.

Yes, I could (and have in the past) rode an 800-pound Harley, one on which I can barely put my feet flat on the ground; I can suffer its noise, vibration, uncomfortable seat, and lack of amenities, all just to fit in with others' view of how things should be done, or to conform with how things always have been done in the past. The other bikers call themselves "purists" and everyone else "wannabes" or "nerds." I was compelled, almost shamed, into wearing black leather, a half-helmet with goggles, no windshield ,and leather saddlebags with tassles, because that's everyone's image of a real biker.

But I finally adopted and embraced the 21st century ride: a machine that is at the same time more powerful and yet quieter and more comfortable; accurate electronic instruments rather than old "steam gauge" dials; I can choose to have trip and weather data at my fingertips rather than get lost or wait until I'm in the middle of a thunderstorm before I put on my rain gear; I can listen to up-to-the-minute news and uninterrupted music inside a noise-muffling full-face helmet rather than have my brain slowly but surely turn to Jell-O by listening to the drone of my engine and the highway. Why wear black camouflaging leather when I can wear shiny reflective armored nylon that is warmer, cooler, more visible, and more protective than leather? Why wear a tiny "skull cap" helmet when I can wear a real helmet that will actually protect me in case of a crash?

Guys like former Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld were severely criticized for embracing "transformation." There was talk about outright rebellions in the Pentagon over Rumsfeld's plans to streamline and modernize the U.S. military. Despite his astouding victory in Afghanistan, where just a few thousand American special ops forces and airmen brought down the Taliban on their own turf mere weeks after Nine-Eleven, Rumsfeld will be forever condemned as the guy who wanted to fight the second war of the 21st century in Iraq as if he was actually in the 21st century.

Instead, what we got was a general who convinced the President to fight it like they did 60 years ago--go into the capital city of the enemy in a nice neat straight line with forces and tactics completely unsuited for urban warfare, stop in place, and hold for an indefinite period of time. Any wonder we couldn't put away the victory over a vastly inferior force? We agreed to fight the battle their way, like they did 60 years ago. The odds were evened--and we did it to ourselves.

I've taken my fair share of cheap shots over riding my "Hondaminium" in the midst of other "real" bikers...but I get to where I'm going in comfort, style, even in motorcycle luxury. Moreover, I'm doing it my way, not the way the Harley-Davidson ad agencies, Peter Fonda or Marlon Brando, or the burned-out vibration-addled old school bikers want me to do it.

See you on the road. And if you want to say hi, or want to make fun of my Gold Wing's "training wheels," you won't have to shout to make yourself heard, except maybe by yourself. I'll hear you just fine. And I won't need a couple beers to dull the pain in my back or sooth the rattled nerve endings, either.

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